


undulating flight

by acrobats



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bat Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, meager attempts at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrobats/pseuds/acrobats
Summary: Damian seeks out Jason with a predicament he is convinced nobody else will understand, but his family may yet surprise him.





	undulating flight

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I know that Damian is canonically vegetarian, but I wasn't able to find any further clarification. I know some eat dairy products and eggs, some eat neither, and some eat one but not the other. My Damian is fine with dairy products but avoids eggs. If there is anything in canon that indicates otherwise and I've missed it, please let me know!  
> 2) Continuity?? What is that?? Please don't ask me because I do not know. This is set vaguely in a New 52 timeline, because it's the one I'm most familiar, but when exactly I have no idea.  
> 3) I'm not really happy with this but I wrote 8000 words in two days while doing little else so I might as well show it to someone.

Jason woke up on alert for reasons he couldn't immediately place. It was still dark, only a couple hours had passed since he'd gone to bed, and none of his security had been tripped. His neighbors, for once, were being blessedly quiet. There was no commotion in the streets below his apartment. Still, something was off.

With a grunt, Jason grabbed the gun hidden under his pillow and rolled out of bed, shuffling quietly to the living room. A shadowed figure was draped across his couch, lounging like he owned the goddamn place. Jason flicked the lights on so the intruder could properly appreciate his exasperated look.

“Oh, it's you,” Jason said with a sigh and tossed the gun back into the bedroom. “The hell are you doing here? It's my night off, brat.”

Damian Wayne matched his stare with an utterly blank look. “You need to upgrade your security.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Real original. He didn't tell Damian what the whole flock had to at least suspect – that his security wasn't installed with the idea of keeping the little bats and birds out. Maybe they already knew, but there was no reason to confirm it.

With a shake of his head, he trudged past Damian and into the kitchen. He put on the coffee maker and subtly watched the kid who'd decided to pay him a midnight visit for no reason Jason could decipher. He seemed tense, more tense than usual, posture rigid and lips pressed firmly together in a way that indicated he was holding back a pout or possibly tears.

Jason checked the time again. If it had been a relatively quiet night, patrol should be wrapped up by now, but that didn't explain why Damian had decided to come here instead of going back to the manor and catching some z's. He was tempted to blame an argument with Bruce, but then Jason had no doubt Damian would be on his way to Blüdhaven.

“Not that I'm not graced by your presence, your highness,” Jason said and ignored the glare Damian sent his way, “but like...what's up?”

Eloquent, Jason.

Damian inhaled sharply. “I made a mistake,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Don't concern yourself with it. I only require hospitality for the night.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He knew better than to push the kid for answers when he was in a mood like this – the most likely result would be Damian deciding it had been a bad idea to come here and running off. Much as Jason would like for this to be somebody else's problem – like, somebody equipped to _handle_ it – for some reason Damian had come to _him_ for help.

Jason didn't think it could be anything else than a process of elimination. And if he'd honestly thought that whatever he'd done, nobody except Jason would help him out, things couldn't be good. All he really could do at this point was make sure the kid stuck around until he decided to tell Jason what was going on of his own accord.

Jason filled his cup with the steaming coffee and refrained from adding the gross amount of sugar he would like. No signs of weakness around the demon brat.

“Won't you pour me a cup too?” Damian asked and managed to make it sound like a demand.

“You can have orange juice,” Jason told him. Damian scowled. “What? I'm in enough shit with your dad without giving his _actual blood son_ caffeine at ass-o-clock in the morning, thank you very much.”

At the mention of Bruce, Damian's expression soured even more, however that was possible. “That is the least of my concerns at the present time, Todd.”

“And what would those concerns be?” Jason asked casually, turning his back on Damian to inspect the contents of his fridge. “Okay, how about a capri sun? I've got fruit punch and strawberry.”

Damian heaved a sigh. “Fine. Fruit punch.”

Jason grinned and tossed him the juice without warning. Damian managed to look entirely nonchalant as he held up a hand to catch it. He raised an eyebrow and smirked as if to communicate _is that the best you can do?_ Jason huffed out a laugh – if Damian hadn't been blatantly antagonistic, that's when he'd worry.

“So kid,” Jason said, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, “you wanna make some pizza?”

Damian blinked. “ _Make_ pizza,” he repeated, doubt coloring his voice. “At this hour.”

The flatness of his voice made it into something between question and statement. Underneath his very convincing poker face, it was clear that the kid was baffled.

“What, you've never had homemade pizza before?” Jason asked. Alfred used to make it all the time for movie nights, but come to think of it, Jason couldn't recall an instance they'd had it since his semi-official return to the family. But he chalked that down to not being around all that often. “Well, clearly we gotta remedy that.”

Jason rummaged through his cabinets for the ingredients – flour, dry yeast, salt and sugar for starters. Get the crust done first and put it away to rise. It would take an hour or so, but it wasn't like either of them was gonna go to sleep.

Gingerly, Damian rose from the couch and stepped into the kitchen, looking every bit like he was expecting to spring a trap. “No meat products,” he warned.

Jason shrugged. “Sure, kid. You pick the toppings.”

“And stop calling me _kid_.”

* * *

It was a full two hours until they were eating, and in that time Jason hadn't managed to wrangle any more information out of Damian, unless his opinion on hawaiian pizza – strongly against – counted. Still, he wouldn't consider it a complete waste. The kid had relaxed marginally, indicated by the growing frequency with which he insulted Jason.

It would be kind of cute, if it wasn't annoying as hell.

Things were going well, considering. They may have continued to go well if Bruce fucking Wayne hadn't, in typical Bruce Wayne fashion, ruined everything. The second Jason's phone rang Damian transformed, freezing like a deer caught in headlines.

“Do not answer,” he demanded, voice a horrified whisper.

Jason hesitated. “It looks incriminating if I don't pick up,” he said by way of apology. But whatever the hell had happened, he was sure he was on Damian's side rather than Bruce's, and he wasn't about to snitch on the kid. He put on his best sleep-addled voice and grumbled, “I didn't give you this number so you could call me in the middle of the night, B. Fuck do you want?”

“I need to know if you've seen Damian,” Bruce said. He was in full Batman mode, no hello Jason, how are you doing Jason, sorry for the inconvenience.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason confirmed slowly. “Short kid, looks like you but angrier? Think it rings a bell.”

“Jason,” Bruce snapped.

“I haven't seen him since brunch on Sunday,” Jason sighed, letting exasperation seep into his voice. “Why, what'd you do this time? Can I guess?”

“I didn't do anything,” Bruce growled. “We were on patrol and now he's missing. That's all.”

Even if Jason didn't have a freaked out Damian perched on his kitchen counter, it would be pretty obvious Bruce was holding something back.

“Huh. Have you tried making an announcement at the front desk?” he suggested sweetly. He could envision Bruce's glare even through the phone. “Look, you want me to think the kid up and left for no reason, I'll give it a _maybe._ But you thinking he'd come to me of all people? C'mon, B.”

“A surveillance camera placed him near your place in Starlin street,” Bruce said gruffly.

“I'm not even there tonight,” Jason lied through his teeth. “So if he did go looking for me, I doubt he stayed long. Seriously, what's going on? Is the kid okay?”

“No,” Bruce said. It was impossible to discern his tone.

Jason's heart sunk in his chest. “No. That's all you're gonna give me.”

“We don't know exactly what happened, but –” Bruce sounded pained to admit it, “I very much doubt he's okay.” A pause. “If you do see him, call me. Other than that, do not involve yourself in this. We'll handle it."

And with that, he hang up. Jason gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Charming, your dad,” he told Damian.

Damian watched him like a hawk. “You didn't tell him.”

“I'm not a snitch,” Jason said with a shrug. “Look, I'm in your corner, ki – Damian. I won't tell Bruce shit, but I don't know what else I can do to help if you won't tell me what happened.”

“You're not. You're not on my side,” Damian declared. “You're just against father. That is different. But in this instance – I am forced to admit that given the circumstances, an alliance would be –”

Jason didn't think he'd ever heard him so obviously torn up. “Jesus, kid. An alliance, sure. Call it what you want, just let me help.”

Damian inhaled sharply and looked away. “It...it was an accident.”

“I believe you,” Jason assured him, if only it the hopes it would stop him from looking so damn miserable. “But what was?”

“I was to intercept a shipment by the docks,” Damian recounted. “Our intel concerning the place and time were correct, but the henchmen keeping guard were more than we had anticipated. I'd been sent alone and as it was time-critical I felt it wise to engage instead of requesting backup.”

Jason frowned. “You're not hurt, are you?” Damian shook his head. He could be lying, but Jason hadn't detected anything wrong with him in the two hours he'd been there. “So what, did they get away or something? 'Cause that shit happens. Sure, B will probably stew for a couple days and make you write a detailed analysis of what you could've done better, but it'll blow over. We've all been there.”

“No, the mission was successful,” Damian said ruefully. “Too successful, one might say. One of them attacked me from behind and...I should have been alert, I should have seen him coming, but it threw me off balance. I was at the time preparing to strike another henchman with my katana and...it changed the...the direction of the strike. I...it was an accident. It was an accident.”

Oh, Jason thought, fuck. “Is he...?”

“Dead,” Damian confirmed with a shudder. He looked like a condemned man.

“Shit, Damian, it's not your fault,” Jason murmured.

“It was not my intention,” Damian corrected, swallowing thickly. He rubbed at his eyes with a vengeance and made a noise suspiciously close to a sniff. “But it was my doing. My responsibility. I doubt either Father or...or _Richard_ will think differently.”

Jason cursed again internally, because how sure could he be that Damian was wrong?

“They better goddamn think differently,” Jason glowered. “Have you seen them at all since then?”

“No,” Damian admitted. “I ditched my comms and fled the scene. If they had any doubt of my guilt, I must have confirmed it for them.”

Well, yeah. Damian wasn't guilty of shit, but to a Bruce who didn't know the full story and who loved to hold people's past over their heads, it would sure look shady as fuck. Dick...Dick would have to be a little more willing to give Damian the benefit of the doubt, but who knew if he'd be able to stop the world's greatest detective from jumping to conclusions?

“You should explain the situation to them,” he said, the words falling flat to his own ears. “They'll believe you.”

But all Jason could think of was being fifteen years old and swearing up and down that he hadn't killed Felipe Garzonas, and the doubt and mistrust that had never left Bruce's eyes since then. And the Bruce then had both been in a better place and not dealing with a son who had a history of murder already.

“What if they don't? Or what if they don't care? I – I made a promise and –” Damian's voice broke. He glared at Jason like he was the source of all his troubles. “Damn it, Todd. I came to you because I thought you'd understand.”

Because you're a murderer, Jason. Because Father never truly forgave you and he never will, Jason. The implication was clear enough. It was all Jason could do not to rise to the bait.

“What in your experience suggests that they could possibly forgive me?” Damian went on.

Fucking nothing. But that was the thing, wasn't it? It wasn't the same. Bruce as well as Dick had _literally_ let Damian get away with murder in the past. Sure, Bruce hadn't made it easy for him, distrustful fucker that he was, but ultimately...Damian was his son. His _real_ son, as Damian missed no opportunity to point out. Of course he wouldn't get the same fucking treatment as the resident black sheep now, would he?

But that wasn't fair. Jason knew it wasn't, no matter what the anger coiling in his gut said. Damian's circumstances were unique. He was young. And Bruce had still fucked up with him so monumentally that Damian was sitting here drowning in terror because he adamantly believed that an accident could be enough to make any love his father had ever shown him go away.

God, it didn't matter if Bruce loved the kid more than the rest of them combined, Jason was gonna have _words_ with him. And by words he mostly meant fists.

“Not much,” he admitted. “But maybe I'm feeling generous enough to believe they can learn from their mistakes.”

Damian scoffed. “Your delusions are no concern of mine.”

“Thine delusions art no –”

“ _Todd._ ”

“Yeah, I know, brat.” Jason sighed. “Believe me, I know. Listen, you can stay with me as long as you want, and you have my word that I won't breathe a word to the rest of the flock. But if you insist on blaming yourself for what happened we're gonna have to throw down.”

“That would hardly be a fair fight,” Damian declared. “For _you_.”

Jason laughed.

“Can I really stay?” Damian asked.

“As long as you need to,” Jason promised. "But maybe not... _here_ here. I told Bruce I wasn't here and maybe he believed me, but I'm guessing he'll check the place for any signs you passed through. I've got another place we can go to, top secret."

* * *

Never had Dick hated the perpetual traffic jam on the highway connecting Blüdhaven to Gotham more in his life. It should be a half hour drive. It felt like an eternity.

It wasn't often that Bruce swallowed his pride and over protectiveness and abundance of other issues and called for help – but usually, when he did, it was for nothing less than the end of the world. Dick thought he might have actually preferred it if that was the case. And then banished the thought immediately, because that was just tempting fate and he could _not_ deal with that kind of a crisis on top of the current one.

No, this was worse. This was about his family.

A corpse in the morgue that had been found at the docks, cause of death a stab wound Batman had examined and confirmed must have come for a sword. Damian nowhere to be found, comms ditched not far from the scene. God help him, but it didn't look good.

There had to be an explanation. But to hear that explanation they would have to _find Damian first_ and the kid had been gone for hours now. Bruce had called Dick last night, vague and not particularly forthcoming with information, to ask if Damian was in the 'Haven with him. Dick hadn't thought much of it at the time; it wouldn't have been the first time Damian left without alerting anyone. But then Bruce called again in the morning and told him the whole truth, adding that Damian still was nowhere to be found. He wasn't with Jon. He wasn't with the Titans. None of the other Bats had seen him. Some footage of him early in the night had been a dead end, and he hadn't been seen since.

Dick slammed his palm against the car horn, joining in the cacophony of frustrated drivers stuck in place. The moment there was an opening, he was going to hit the gas and break every goddamn traffic code regulation in existence. He needed to be in Gotham _yesterday._

Damian hadn't come to him. Whatever had happened – he refused, _refused_ to make any assumptions until he heard Damian's side of the story – Damian had been so shaken that he felt the need to run away. That wasn't unusual. But normally, when it got _bad,_ it was Dick he'd run to. This time, he hadn't. That was on Dick. He'd alienated the kid somehow, hadn't paid proper attention to him lately, or – he didn't know. One way or another he'd done something to make Damian think he couldn't depend on him.

Dick's phone rang, a welcome reprieve from his thoughts. He hit the accept button and put it on speaker. Just in case they started moving again.

“I know, I know,” Dick said. “I'm on my way. Kinda stuck right now.”

“I know,” Bruce echoed. “Take the next exit.”

It was less than a hundred meters away. Dick could manage that. He didn't spare a moment to be surprised that Bruce knew exactly where he was or to question the why – he was more than used to Bruce's antics, and there were more important things to worry about. When he finally left the highway he found the man not another fifty meters down the side road, sat on one of the unused bikes that usually assorted the cave along with the cars and jets.

He didn't second guess parking his car in a truly atrocious fashion and hopping onto the bike, either. They were gone the next second, not a word exchanged as they sped away. Bruce took them through an alternate route, smaller than the highway but not faring much better traffic wise. But the bike made it easier to slip through it – and there was also the fact that Bruce was driving like a madman. Dick strongly concurred.

They remained silent when they reached the manor. On their way to the cave, too. Dick felt a strong compulsion to apologize, though what for, he wasn't sure. If he owed any apologies, it was to Damian. But Bruce was being even more stoic and withdrawn than usual, and Dick couldn't find it in himself to try and break through it.

There was nothing to say. All they could do was keep combing through surveillance and hope for a lead. Cass was out doing a city-wide search. She was the best equipped to stay out of civilians' sight during the day. Barbara and Steph were both updated on the situation and on constant alert. And Tim –

Tim burst into the cave looking like he'd ran a marathon, worry drawn clearly across his face. He wasted no time in taking a seat next to Dick and Bruce, immediately commandeering the computer.

“What's the status?”

“We've hit a dead end,” Bruce said. His voice was raw and unused. “Last sighting was on Winnick street, circa 0100 hours.”

Tim looked up fleetingly. “That's super close to one of Jason's places, isn't it?”

“I've checked it out already. There are no signs that either Jason or Damian have been by recently.” Bruce sighed. “Not that Damian couldn't get in and out undetected if he wanted to, but that doesn't give us any clues as to his current whereabouts. Keep searching.”

That raised a good question – where was Jason in all this? Dick knew he kept his distance for a myriad of reasons, but one of their brothers was missing. Shouldn't he be here looking for Damian with the rest of them?

“Bruce,” Tim asked slowly, “you _have_ filled Jason in, haven't you?”

Bruce's shoulders tensed. “I told him that Damian was unaccounted for and that we would handle it. Given the circumstances, I can't imagine that involving him would be the right call.”

“Given the _circumstances_ ,” Dick echoed, disbelieving. “Bruce, we don't fucking know what the circumstances are! And I don't know if you've noticed, but this is _kind of_ an all hands on deck situation here!”

“I have noticed,” Bruce growled, turning on Dick with a glare so severe that Dick's anger faded momentarily. “And considering how dire the situation is, I'm not about to throw an unpredictable element into the mix! Wherever Damian's gone, he's emotionally compromised, and the _last_ thing he needs –”

He broke off. In a way, Dick understood what he was trying to say: little as he liked to think about it, they were all faced with the possibility that Damian had killed a man. And Jason, well – Bruce couldn't stand to involve him because the parallels between them had always been difficult to ignore. Now it would be an unpleasant reminder, when Jason still believed in using lethal force and Damian had been fighting so hard to go against everything he'd learned in the past.

It was, of course, stupid and unfair to them both, but fear was rarely a fair and rational thing.

“Yeah, if you say so,” Dick murmured, because he was an expert in Bruce and he could testify that the man couldn't be convinced of anything in this state of mind. “I think that's full of shit, but what's new? I'm going upstairs to check on Alfred. Three pairs of eyes on the computer aren't going to make it work any faster.”

Tim looked like he wanted to protest, but then he cast a glance at Dick and his face scrunched up. “Maybe both of you should take a break?” he suggested. “I can keep an eye on things.”

Bruce didn't deign that with an answer, but he didn't step away from the computer, so his opinion was clear as it could be. Dick managed a smile for his brother and ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Timmy.”

“I just...” Guilt flickered across Tim's expression. “I care about the brat too, you know?”

“I know,” Dick reassured him. “I'm sure he knows too. We'll find him.”

Dick would make sure of it.

He turned his back on the cave and – just as he'd said he would – went to find Alfred. Dick had not one, but two brothers to look for and he didn't need anyone to realize where was going yet. With the size of the manor being what it was, if Alfred told them Dick was around somewhere, no one would question it.

* * *

Dick checked the apartment on Starlin street first, but he couldn't say he was surprised when he found nothing that Bruce hadn't. He circled around the rest of Jason's known safe houses – and a couple he suspected he was the only one privy to – and came up with absolutely nothing. It made him question his conviction a little, but he didn't doubt there were still places the two could have gone that no one in the family would know about. He called Jason.

“Two within twenty four hours,” Jason said by way of greeting. “I'm popular these days.”

“Hi, Jay,” Dick returned with forced cheer. “Are you in town? I'd like to drop in.”

There was a long silence on the other end. “...Because that doesn't sound fishy at all. Has your Robin-crisis come to an end then?”

“No,” Dick admitted. “I was hoping I could recruit your for the search, actually.”

“Well, you can't,” Jason said flatly. “I'm busy. Best of luck and all.”

“Oh, you working a case?”

“Is there a reason we're playing twenty questions, Grayson?” Jason snapped. “Because I very much doubt what you want to be doing while your brat is missing is making small talk with _me._ ”

Dick hated to admit it, but Jason wasn't wrong. And this bluffing back and forth wasn't going to get them anywhere.

“Look, Jay,” Dick said with a sigh. “I don't know, one hundred percent, that Damian is with you, but I hope he is. I'm glad if he is. You don't have to tell me if I'm right. I don't know how much he told you and – and truth be told we don't really know what happened, either. Just – if Dami is there, could you please just tell him that we're worried about him? And tell him that I love him very much, no matter what, and all I want is to make sure he's okay.”

It was quiet for so long on the other end of the line that Dick was afraid that Jason was just going to hang up. Then –

“Richard,” a small voice said, “you're on speaker.”

Dick sagged in relief. “Dames?”

“I'm here,” he said. “Richard, you cannot tell father that I am with Todd. It's imperative.”

“Dames, are you okay? You sound...?”

Like he was holding back tears. Hurting. Terrified. And Dick wasn't there to put his fears to rest.

“I am fine,” Damian said with a sharp intake of breath. “Richard. Promise me.”

“No, listen, dad is just scared, okay? We just want to make sure you're okay.”

There was a strangled sob on the other end, followed closely by a curse.

“Damnit, Dick,” and yeah, that was Jason again, “can't you shove your opinion up your ass for five minutes and do what the kid wants?”

Dick kind of felt like crying himself. He swallowed it back and said, “Alright, Dames. We don't tell Bruce anything until you're ready. Can I please come see you?”

Frantic whispering followed.

“I'm texting you our location,” Jason said finally, and he sounded closer now. Dick guessed he'd taken the phone off speaker and put it to his ear. “Seriously, come alone, okay? Kid's scared enough as is.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick conceded. He didn't know there was much he wouldn't agree to in order to see Damian at this point. “Thank you. For – I just – I'm glad he wasn't alone.”

“But you wish he was with you,” Jason added wryly. “No arguments there, Dickie. See you soon.”

* * *

Damian was ashamed.

He was ashamed because he'd killed a man. He was ashamed because – having said that – in his heart of hearts he cared more about how his family would react to the incident than he cared about the life he'd taken. He was ashamed because his self-control was torn to shreds and he couldn't get a grip on his emotions no matter how hard he tried. He was ashamed because he'd shown vulnerability in front of _Todd_ of all people. He was ashamed because all Todd had done was help him, and still Damian was incapable of conjuring a single kind thought.

Right now he was especially ashamed because he'd worried Richard. Drawing out the inevitable was useless – at some point he and his family both would have face what he'd done, and judge him as they might. But he hadn't been able to face their disappointment. He'd fled, causing Richard undue stress and fear and only making the situation worse on all of them. But ashamed as he was of that, it was taking everything he had not to flee again now that he knew Richard was on his way to them. He and Todd were hiding out in a sorry excuse of a house, but Todd swore nobody knew about it, so Damian was willing to overlook its flaws.

When Damian had gotten up in the morning – he hadn't slept, but he'd laid on the apartment's only bed for a couple of hours while Todd occupied the couch – he'd found Todd flipping omelets on the stove. He'd asked if Damian was “chill with” eating eggs and hadn't even seemed mildly bothered to make something else when Damian's silence answered for him. He'd been perfectly content to pretend this was a normal thing for the two of them, too, some form of the brotherly bonding Richard would never shut up about.

When Richard had called, Todd had somehow talked Damian into agreeing to see him. Damian didn't have the first clue as to how – he strongly suspected witchcraft – and he was already regretting the decision immensely. He would have to look Richard in the eye and recount what had happened. And the worst part was that Damian couldn't squash the hope that Richard would forgive him. _No matter what,_ he'd said, but Damian was supposed to know better. Love was never unconditional.

“Here.” Todd placed a mug on the table in front of Damian, none too gently. “I promise it's not poisoned.”

“Even if it were, I would be more than capable of detecting the poison,” Damian responded out of habit, no real heat behind the words.

He cupped his hands around the steaming mug and brought it to his lips. It was scorching, but he cared little. He blinked in surprise, instantly recognizing the taste of moroccan mint tea. He hadn't had any in a long time. No doubt Pennyworth would be able to stock up if Damian requested it, but –

That was, if he was allowed back in the manor.

“Let it cool a bit,” Todd chastised.

Damian took another sip pointedly. Todd looked like he was going to press the matter, but a sharp knock on the window made both of them put it aside. Damian shrunk in his chair and hated himself for it.

“I'm gonna go bring him inside,” Todd said, in a tone that should only be used with puppies or very small infants. Not Damian. “It'll be fine. If he says something dumb to you I'll punch him.”

Damian didn't particularly care for the idea, but nevertheless he could acknowledge it as Todd's effort at reassurance. Not that Damian needed to be reassured. He glared at Todd's retreating form and turned away sharply when he returned with Richard on his heels.

“Hey, Dames,” Richard greeted softly. It was painful to hear the affection in his voice.

He didn't attempt to hug Damian as was usually his habit. That was good, because if he did Damian feared he'd break down for good, but it was bad too, because what could it possibly mean except that Richard was having second thoughts about Damian already? He did take a seat next to him and held out his hand over the table, but Damian refused to take it.

“You want a moment alone, kid?” Todd asked.

Damian surprised and embarrassed himself further than he already had by blurting out, “Stay.”

Todd joined them at the table, keeping a distance. A complicated emotion passed over Richard's face. Then he caught himself and smiled like all was well in the world.

“I'm really glad you're okay,” he told Damian.

Damian swallowed hard. “Let's not dance around the issue. You want to know what happened yesterday.”

“I wanted to see my brother who ran away from home in the middle of the night,” Richard stressed. Damian scoffed. He'd left before, to the Titans or the Kent boy or even Richard himself. The only reason his absence concerned anyone this time was because of the murder connected to it. “But yes, if you're willing to talk about it...”

Damian jutted out his chin. “What if I told you I killed him?”

“Then I would have to ask...why.” Richard sounded pained. “Because I know you've fought long and hard to break free from that kind of mentality, and you've come such a long way. And even though I don't think I could agree with it, no matter the reason, I would trust that you had a good one. And I would still love you very much and want you to come home so you could see the others still loved you, too.”

It had to be a lie. It had to be a trick. But Richard wouldn't do that to Damian, would he? At least he'd tell Damian the truth.

“I did kill him,” Damian admitted. “But it was an accident.”

Richard's expression softened. “Oh, Damian.”

“And I regret it,” Damian went on. “But mostly I just...I just care that you don't hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Richard said fiercely. “Never. Undebatable.”

Damian believed him.

“But father,” he argued weakly.

“Your dad,” Dick said with a knowing smile, “will probably blame himself for putting you in that situation to begin with. And I bet he'll be overbearing as hell on patrol for a while, but that's because he cares.”

Father did care, Damian knew that. But father also held those closest to him to a very high standard, and he'd have every right to be angry if his own blood son was unable to live up to it. Best case scenario –

“You don't think he'll take Robin away?”

Damian had only become Robin on the condition that he renounce lethal force. He'd failed. He'd broken that promise. It only followed that it would be striped away from him.

Todd made a noise of frustration. “Okay, now that you two have officially made up, can I get the hell out of here?”

A strange request, considering this was his own kitchen. He sounded genuinely distressed, though, so Damian concurred with a nod. Richard watched him go with a frown before turning his attention back to Damian.

“No, I don't think so,” he said. “Like I said, he might be...uncomfortable letting you patrol on your own for some time. Truth be told I would be, too. It's not a trust thing, just...he feels responsible.”

“My actions are my own,” Damian said with a shake of his head. He was the one who had decided he was ready to go off on his own, he was the one who had been campaigning for solo missions for months. He was the one whose stupid pride prevented him from calling back up when he knew there were too many men for him to take on alone. “I let him down.”

“You did no such –” Richard broke off. He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “This isn't about Bruce's expectations, Damian. We all make mistakes on the job. If he only accepted people who had never made one, he'd work as alone as he advertises.”

“But if he _does_ decide I'm unfit to be Robin,” Damian tried.

“Who says that's for him to decide?” Richard challenged. “My mantle. My call. And I think you're a great Robin. If Bruce disagrees, he's gonna have to take it up with me.”

“You mean that?” Damian couldn't help asking.

“I mean it,” Richard promised.

Damian took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe it would be okay. Richard was on his side, and even Todd. As badly as Damian had messed up, he wasn't alone in this.

* * *

Jason was neither hiding nor sulking. Sure, he was nested in the tiny space of the fire escape with his knees pulled up to his chest, hoping that if he stayed still for long enough the two assholes inside his safe house would forget about his existence, but that was just...a tactical maneuver. Besides, he was giving them space. Now that they'd made up, they probably had a lot of emotional cheesy shit to talk about that nobody needed him around for.

He wished he'd had the presence of mind to at least grab a beer before he stalked off, because who knew how long it would take them to go away. Of course they had to have their heart to heart in Jason's fucking kitchen, that was fine. He could just leave, but again, _his fucking house_. Where would he go, anyway? This was the last of his safe houses in Gotham that was still hidden from the bats, or it had been.

Jason turned his head and startled violently at the dark-clad figure perched on the railing above him. He barely just managed to catch his initial flinch, but he was sure she saw it anyway.

“Black Bat,” he ground out. He willed his heartbeat to slow. She could probably hear it or some shit. “What's with the costume during daylight hours?”

Cass shrugged and slid down next to him. “Quiet. You didn't see.”

“Yeah, you spooked me a bit,” Jason admitted. Ha. Understatement of the century. “What 're you doing here?”

“Watch over,” Cass said. She tilted her head, glancing towards the house. “Good now.”

Of course she knew. “Nothing escapes your notice, huh? How come you didn't tell B?”

“ _You_ didn't tell.”

Jason scoffed. “Yeah, but I don't tell B shit.”

Cass shook her head and smiled, in that infuriating way of hers that meant she'd caught one of them in a lie. “Damian didn't want...find. But I protect.”

And yeah, Jason could kind of see why she was everyone's favorite. Bruce was still going to flip his shit when he realized three of them had known exactly where Damian was and actively worked to keep it from him. Luckily, Jason would not be there for that conversation. Perks of not really being a part of the family.

“So what's your hot take on this giant mess, Cass?” he asked conversationally.

Cass wrapped her arms around herself like a hug. “Accident,” she said. “I hear. Damian is good.”

He wanted to make a crack about eavesdropping and spying on people, but it was basic bat etiquette at this point, and who was he to tell her otherwise? Still better than Dick “I broke into your top secret house and stocked up your fridge even though I am a hypocrite who lives on take out, also I confiscated all your guns because I'm mad at you” Grayson.

“Inside,” Cass decided suddenly.

“No, yeah, please invite yourself, mi casa es tu casa,” Jason said dryly.

She gave him a Look. “You too.”

And that was how Jason found himself in Dick's car – actually one of Bruce's cars, “borrowed” as Dick said, because apparently his actual car was stuck in a side road somewhere between Gotham and Blüdhaven, Jason didn't want to know – sitting next to Damian in the back seat, with Dick driving and Cass in the passenger seat. Damian grumbled about not being allowed to sit in the front the entire fucking time.

He'd thrown a hissy fit when he'd seen Cass, but cooled down fast enough when it became evident that she hadn't ratted him out to Bruce. He also hadn't been to keen on returning to the manor at first, but Dick and Cass had talked him into it. Jason had been a little too busy trying to avoid the trip himself. His efforts were futile, in the end.

Currently he was contemplating the chances of survival if he threw the door open and rolled out of the moving car. The only thing holding him back was the fear that Damian, who looked equally ready to bolt, might mimic him. Being an older sibling was exhausting. No wonder Dick was such a fucking mess all the time.

* * *

Tim could feel his vision blurring. It had been a long night, but he'd planned to make up for it by crashing during the day. Then one phone call from Bruce later, it had turned into a long morning. Tim had been in the cave for hours now combing through security footage and he was still no closer to locating Damian.

And logically, the kid would be fine. He was more than capable of watching out for himself. If Damian couldn't be found, it was because he didn't want to. Because he was a stubborn, arrogant little brat, who in all likelihood had just killed someone, and had actually tried to kill Tim himself in the past – so why the hell did Tim feel like crying with every minute that went by and Tim was failing to find him?

 _Because,_ Tim thought, _he's your brother._ In the beginning, when Bruce was ruling out the most obvious places...he'd thought of Dick, of Jon Kent and the Titans. He'd even asked Jason. It had never crossed anyone's mind – and rightfully so – that Damian could have possibly gone to Tim. Because they were brothers, but Tim sure as hell had never done anything to make the kid feel like he could count on him.

And now Tim couldn't even find him. So what the hell good was he?

“Where are you, you little shit?” Tim murmured to himself.

He was not expecting a reply. “If you're referring to me, Drake,” a familiar voice drawled, “perhaps you need to re-evaluate your tactical awareness skills.”

Tim spun around and was half-way out of his chair before he even realized it. “Damian!” And it was. But not just Damian. Dick, Jason and Cass were all standing with him at the entrance of the cave, Dick with a hand on the boy's shoulder. Cass smiled at Tim and Jason gave him a silent salute. “What – what's going on here?”

“Hey, Timbo,” Dick greeted with a smile of his own. “I found Dames.”

“I...I can see that,” Tim said. “How exactly?”

“Technically it was all my fault,” Jason said cheerfully. Tim couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. “I lied to B about where the kid was.”

“And you figured it out and went after them?” Tim guessed, glancing at Dick. “And Cass is...Well, no one can really hide from Cass.”

Cass' smile widened and she tilted her head to the side, a silent _thank you_.

“Basically,” Dick agreed. “Where's B?”

“He went out,” Tim said, glancing back at the computer and clicking to enlarge the image he wanted. “I found this shot of Damian from a traffic camera around 0400 hours – seemed like a long shot, but we didn't have anything else, so he went to check it out.”

“Ha! The decoy,” Jason told Damian with glee, and held a closed fist out to him.

“You're a disgrace,” Damian grumbled, but to Tim's surprise, grudgingly conceded to the fist bump.

“I'm calling Bruce in,” Tim announced. Damian visibly stiffened but nodded jerkily. Tim opened the line. “Red Robin to Batman. You're needed at the cave.”

“Acknowledged,” came Bruce's voice not a second later. “On my way. Status report?”

Tim glanced at his brothers and sister. “You'll see when you get here.”

They settled in to wait, a surprisingly companionable silence falling over them. Dick stuck close to Damian while Cass went over to the training area and Jason lounged in a chair as far away from the rest of them as possible, kicking his feet up and pretending he wasn't in as much discomfort as the rest of them damn well knew he was.

“Aren't you going to ask me?” Damian said abruptly.

It took Tim a moment to realize it was addressed to him. “Ask you what?”

Damian met his gaze head on. “If I killed him.”

“Well, did you?” Tim relented.

“Yes,” Damian said harshly, but Tim caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “I...I didn't mean to.”

“Oh,” Tim managed. “That...sucks.”

It certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility, in their line of work – all it would take was one miscalculated hit, and the damage would be irreversible. But if it had been an accident, why on earth had Damian ran?

Damian scoffed. “You don't believe me.”

“It's not that,” Tim argued. “I'm just...not sure I understand. That's not great, yeah, but it's not your fault either, so why did you disappear like that?”

“You all say that,” Damian murmured. “I did not view it that way, neither did I think you would.”

Well. Now Tim felt like a colossal asshole. Somehow they'd all remembered Damian's past with the League of Assassins perfectly well when it came to the crimes Damian had committed, but they'd managed to forget the part where he'd been conditioned to consider any and all mistakes unforgivable.

“Well, I view it that way,” Tim said lamely.

Damian nodded tersely. Tim couldn't imagine his words had been reassuring in the slightest, but at least it felt like they'd come to an agreement. What it was, Tim wasn't sure yet.

* * *

The sound of the batmobile speeding into the cave brought out a complicated mix of emotions in Damian. It was a sound he'd grown fond of, over time, a sound he associated with the larger than life feeling he got out of _Batman and Robin_. It was the sound of his father coming home. All that was present now too, but fear coiled in his gut, loud and insistent.

 _You're a lost cause,_ he heard his father's voice in his head. _A murderer. Irredeemable. I gave you my trust when you never deserved it._

But he had three brothers and a sister who all seemed to think otherwise. Richard knew father well, far better than the rest of them – and he thought that father wouldn't give up on him. More than that, he was willing to stand by Damian's side if he did.

_You don't deserve it._

Damian was weak. He couldn't bear to look as his father came in, pushing the cowl back from his face. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still as a statue. One wrong move could destroy everything, Damian knew that with absolutely certainty. Then father saw him, and he stilled too.

“Damian?”

It was like the word had been punched out of him. Father stalked over to him in large strides, and for a moment Damian was panicking, certain that Richard and the rest of them had been wrong, that father was furious. Then a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug, tight and warm. Damian's face pressed against kevlar. Damian felt something inside him knocked loose.

“Father,” he managed to say, and why did it sound so much like a sob? His hands tightened around the fabric of the cape and squeezed. “Father, I would ask that you first hear my recount of events –”

“I will,” father said, voice tight, but didn't let go of Damian. “In a moment.”

 

**EPILOGUE:**

Jason had the strangest sense of deja vu.

“Oh, fuck, who's dead this time?” he blurted out before his mind could catch up with his mouth, realising that it was probably an inappropriate thing to say.

Damian only rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. “You would be, if this was a real break-in. Your response time is atrocious.”

Jason stifled a yawn. “Are you really just here to insult me?”

Given the circumstances surrounding the last time his youngest brother had broken into his house in the middle of the night, he felt justified in being a little suspicious.

“No,” Damian said cryptically. “I'm just the first to arrive.”

Jason felt vaguely threatened. He did the smart thing and called Dick.

“Hi, Jay,” Dick said brightly. If Jason had woken him up, he showed no signs of it. Because that was who he was as a person.

“Your brat's here,” Jason informed him gruffly. He snuck a glance at Damian, who had made his way to the kitchen and hopped on the kitchen counter with an entire bottle of juice in hand. “Come collect him.”

“Bruce is gonna cry if he hears you calling him _my_ brat,” Dick protested with a laugh. He didn't sound too bothered. “Don't worry, I'll be there in five.”

“What the fuck do you mean in five –”

The asshole hang up on him. Jason sighed, earning a pitying look from Damian.

Before Jason could do much else, two figures slipped inside through the window. Jason turned to stare at them in disbelief. Cass immediately made a beeline for the couch and flopped down, while Tim walked past Jason into the kitchen, reaching for Damian's juice. Damian held it out of his reach and smirked.

“What the fuck,” Jason said to no one in particular.

The doorbell rang. Jason threw his hands up and stalked to the door, his worst fears confirmed when he swung it open to reveal a grinning Dick. Jason had half a mind to shut it in his face. Dick sidestepped him and went to join the rest of the flock inside.

“Would somebody care to fucking explain to me what this is about,” Jason said flatly.

“Abusing your hospitality,” Tim deadpanned. “It was the brat's idea. He praised your cooking skills.”

Damian hissed like the suggestion offended him. “I did no such thing.”

Jason blinked. And stared. And waited a couple more seconds in case this all started to make sense, but it didn't.

“Damian,” he said slowly, “I implore you, as the only goddamn reasonable member of this family, to tell me what's going on.”

Damian preened. “We are making homemade pizza, Todd,” he declared.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](https://acrobatgrayson.tumblr.com).  
> Comments make my heart do the tears of joy emoji.


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